


All Work and No Play Makes Lassie a Madman With Unresolved Issues

by sebviathan



Series: in between the lines (there's a lot of obscurity) [10]
Category: Psych
Genre: ...shawn had gone to lassie's instead of gus, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Dialogue, Episode Tag, M/M, Psychtober, What-If, but only slightly - Freeform, more like, s6e11 Heeeeee's Lassie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8391826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebviathan/pseuds/sebviathan
Summary: "Why do I have to go to Lassie's?""What, you'd rather go look for Lloyd in some dark corner?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna clarify that though this is technically canon divergence, the events of the fic exist in somewhat of a vaccuum that would barely affect the rest of the canon timeline if at all. I think there are definitely ways this situation could have gone down that WOULD make significant changes, but I wrote it in a way that remains otherwise canon compliant and I intend no alternate universe to spawn on from this. That's why it's being included as part of the _in between the lines_ series.
> 
> -
> 
> UPDATE 4-6-17: While I'm still keeping this fic in the IBTL series, I've decided to denote it as being an offset from the main IBTL universe, and from now on, similar fics will remain outside of the series. See the series summary for more of an explanation.

"Gus... It's the stuff Woody was talking about _—_ Amyl Nitrite."

"The stuff that was found in the two dead guys from 536," Gus supplies nervously. Probably coming to the same conclusion that Shawn is.

"Lloyd is _literally_ gassing them. Uh _—_ " Shawn starts to put a hand up to his temple before remembering Gus is the only one in the room, and then shakes his head. "Go up to Lassie's place, see if you can find any traces of this stuff. I'm gonna call Juliet, and look for Lloyd."

His friend's look of reluctance is obvious before he opens his mouth.

"Why do I have to go to Lassie's?"

"What, you'd rather go look for Lloyd in some dark corner?" Shawn's voice ticks up like an annoyed teacher.

Rather than immediately agreeing to go to Lassiter's apartment like Shawn figured he would, though, Gus pauses and seems to mull it over. And then his footing falters.

"Well... he _is_ kinda. Unnervingly crazy. Right now, at least, and I feel like Lloyd wouldn't be capable of real violence, at least not towards _me_ _—_ he's a brother, after all, a murderous brother with a lazy eye but _—_ "

"Jesus, okay _—_ " Shawn sighs. "You deal with the horror movie-esque situation, I'll still call Jules on the way to Lassie's _—_ I'm trusting you to keep your dignity and not piss yourself, here."

Gus clicks his tongue. "You're not my mom, Shawn."

"Well, now you've hurt my feelings, son."

He storms out of Lloyd's cluttered, kleptomaniac nest before his friend can.

 

*

 

_All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy._

Those words are burnt into Carlton's eyes by this point _—_ or moreso the white space around it, Times New Roman, font size 12. The pattern his fingers make across the keyboard is seared into his muscle memory, and he doesn't think he could stop typing it if he wanted.

Why would he even want to? Beats writing up a police report.

It's gotta be up to 200, 300 times by now. The word document is already a few pages pages long with just that phrase _—_ Carlton doesn't know why. Doesn't care why.

The thing that stops him is a voice unlike the others he's been hearing: a soft, familiar one.

"Lassie? You home? Lassie, buddy... Your door was unlocked, which really isn't like you, so maybe make some sign that you're alright back there..."

Spencer's voice trails off, and Carlton feels a burst of adrenaline. Unsure whether he's angry or just excited, he puts a period on the phrase he's been repeating and leaves his computer chair spinning behind him.

He finds him in the hallway, with his neck arched up to the vent. Carlton simply leans forward until his mouth is almost touching the other man's ear.

"What are you doing here, Spencer?"

Shawn jumps, and twists around with brief fear in his eyes _—_ and Lassiter just cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, looking almost like some predator in the wild. Mostly due to his uncharacteristically messy stubble, his hair poking out in every direction, and the deep circles under his eyes like he hasn't slept in days. He hasn't.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Lassie _—_ were you trying to scare me to death? And more importantly, are you wearing heelies or something because I didn't even hear you come up _—_ "

"You didn't answer my question."

His voice becomes significantly rougher with that, and he leans forward so that it seems more like he's hovering over Shawn. But, being Shawn, and knowing Lassie, he doesn't cower or even take a step back.

Instead, he rolls his eyes. "I'm here because I know who the murderer is, and because I know they're trying to get _you_ , too. See _—_ " He gestures up to the vent on the wall. "Up there. I can guarantee you that there is a jar full of a chemical called Amyl Nitrite in the vent, and that it's been blowing through the air of this whole apartment, and making you go crazy."

Carlton nods slowly, lips pursed, eyes focused off to the side for several moments. Then he zeroes in on Shawn so sharply it finally seems to startle him.

"Right, and you know this because... of your ' _psychic_ ' abilities, right?" he says smoothly, the corners of his mouth twisting up à la Nicholson. It's not until he starts laughing, though, that Shawn begins to create the slightest bit of distance. "We both know that's _bullshit_ , Spencer! You can do your little investigations, but the only way you'd know that there's a drug in _my_ vent... is if _you_ put it there."

He punctuates that by poking Shawn hard in the chest, which bothers him much less than the accusation.

"Why the hell would I do that, Lassie?" he presses back, a mirthless laugh of his own bubbling out. "Listen, okay, you're even more paranoid than usual, let me just _—_ "

"You know what _—_ " Lassiter grabs him by both arms with a painful grip, and with a twisted expression on his face. "There is no LIMIT to how far you'll go to mess with me, is there, Spencer? Because _—_ because I am moving _forward_ with my life, and I've finally scratched out a _little_ bit of happiness, and you can't stand to see it."

"What are you even _—_?"

Shawn's stopped not by an interruption, but by Lassiter shoving him against the wall. He looks livid, angrier than he's ever seen the guy in the past six years _—_ maybe even willing to kill, if he's breathed in enough of that shit.

But that fact doesn't scare Shawn nearly as much as the _look_ on Lassie's face and in the eyes that are boring into him.

It puts a spike of pain in his chest to see that much genuine hurt and hatred staring back at him _—_ in the trembling of Lassiter's jaw, and the tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"How selfish can you GET, Spencer?" Carlton shouts, shaking him by the arms. "You have a fucking girlfriend! You made it pretty goddamn clear that you were moving on, so why the FUCK can't I, huh? You want both of us all to yourself? You wanna keep her close and keep me on the edge where you can keep fucking torturing me with lonliness limbo? Well, you can't, you're not gonna keep me from living my life, you..."

As he trails off, Shawn takes the chance to vigorously shake his head. It's the only thing he's able to move at the moment, anyway.

"No, Lassie, nononononononono, that's not _—_ "

"Oh, don't you lie to me right now _—_ "

"NO, Lassie _—_ that's the exact OPPOSITE of what's going on! I _want_ you to be happy and I always fucking have, just _listen_ _—_ " Finally, the mad look in Lassiter's eyes seems to falter. _This_ is what's going to calm him down. "Listen to me. You're my friend, Lassie _—_ you're more than a friend, and I _care_ about you, I care about you so much... I would never do this to you. You know that."

Carlton blinks rapidly, feeling something strong wash over him but unsure of what the hell it is. His grip on Shawn's arms softens for half a second, and then gets stronger.

"Stop _lying_!"

"You're one of the most rational people I've ever met, Lassie," Shawn says, making an effort at an even tone in spite of the growing pain. "Think about it. You're acting like this _—_ you're _thinking_ like this because you're drugged. You don't really believe I'd ever do this."

Or Shawn hopes that he doesn't.

He continues _—_ _finally_ , because even now he can't help but save the reveal for last _—_ "It was Lloyd, the building manager, who did this to you. Gus and I went through his apartment and found the proof. He's been gassing everyone who moves into 536 for the past several _years_ , Lassie. You think I could've done it to those guys way back then, too?"

For a moment, he nods again, like he's deliberating. And then,

"I think you can do anything, Shawn."

Carlton doesn't let go, but rather uses his grip on Shawn's arms to yank him closer _—_ and for a moment, both of them think that his immense adrenaline and warped emotions are about to make him kiss him.

Perhaps in a loss of balance, or in a miscalculation of aim, or even in a very quick and insane change of mind, Carlton knocks their skulls together.

They fall unconscious together to the floor, his hands still clutching Shawn's arms.

 

*

 

_That was... so stupid._

No one notices he's awake for the first minute or so, at least, which saves him some embarassment. And the fact that he's able to feel embarassment probably means he's mostly back to normal.

All that he did and said while unknowingly breathing in those fumes... feels like a haze. Carlton remembers it, but for the most part as though he'd watched someone else do it. It may as well have been someone else, really.

Then the memories of what he must have done only ten minutes ago, if even that, are unfortunately vivid. He feels more shame in those than anything else.

"Carlton?" he hears, seemingly in the distance _—_ until he sees O'Hara's head pop into his view of the ceiling. "Carlton, are you okay?"

He sits up immediately and notices Spencer, still unconscious on the floor next to him. That makes him remember _—_ he gives his partner a strong look, and then pushes himself up and around to face the vent. Wordlessly, and ignoring her calling after him again, he runs to grab a chair to stand on, and opens the vent.

Just like Spencer said.

Carlton stares at the jar for a moment before taking it out _—_ this is it. _This_ is the source of everything he's been going through for the past few days, just... this little strategically placed jar.

"What are you looking for, Lassiter?" comes the voice of the Chief, which snaps him out of it and makes him finally take hold of the jar.

He steps down from the chair, hands it to her, and opens his mouth for the first time since he's woken up.

"As long as you've been in this apartment, you've all been breathing this. I suggest we all leave."

 

*

 

Spencer has sustained nothing worse than a headache from the incident, but Carlton still feels a strong pull to his side as they wait on the steps of Prospect Gardens.

"This'll be one helluva police report to write, huh, Lassie?" Shawn mutters when he sits down. "Or you could just copy and paste the wikipedia summary of _The Shining_ if you wanted..."

The tiniest of smiles slips out before he remembers why he sat down.

"...I'm sorry I head-butted you and knocked you out, Spencer."

"Don't be," he laughs. "You knocked us _both_ out."

"You were out for longer."

"Or maybe I was just taking advantage of a nap, _you_ don't know. 'Sides... you were drugged, you had an abnormal amount of adrenaline in your system, you weren't even _trying_ to, you clearly meant to _—_ "

Shawn stops there, not having even meant to get that far. But by then Carlton knows what he's referring to, and it's obvious that he knows.

He's deeply grateful that Spencer doesn't continue or bring up the rest of all the shit he said, but ironically continues it himself:

"Well, I'm glad that I didn't, because you wouldn't have been able to stop me."

"...I appreciate that." He truly does. "Because I know I sure wouldn't have if I'd wanted to _—_ that _drug-strength_ , Lassie... But. On that subject." It takes all of Shawn's willpower to combat his anxiety and turn to face him. "You know I meant what I said, right? That I want you to be happy? Because I genuinely want the best for you and Marlowe, you know... I might fight with you about a case, and tease you about the weird shit you do, but I would never get in between you and your happiness for real. You know that."

There's a rarity to this sort of conversation that simultaneously makes Carlton want to run away from it, and to hold onto it for as long as possible. He winds up staring back at Shawn in silence for as many moments as he can get away with.

"Yeah, I know," he half-lies. "It was just the nitrate talking."

"Nit _rite_ ," Shawn corrects him.

Carlton has to swallow down possibly the strongest urge he's ever had to say _I've heard it both ways._

For the next several seconds, in fact, he looks at Shawn and desperately wishes he could rewind time. Back to before Shawn had a serious chance with Juliet yet _—_ _long_ before Marlowe, which gives him a surprisingly small amount of guilt. Back to before they understood each other as well as they do now, but when there was still some space to go. Back before it was too late.

He could have done things a little differently. He could have been a goddamn adult and admitted some things, both to Shawn and himself, and... and all this might have never even happened. It wouldn't have had to happen.

But all he has is _now_ , and he ought to accept that before he goes down another spiral.

Shawn, unbeknownst to him, is feeling damn near the same thing.

The news that Juliet brings within the minute _—_ that Lloyd was found dead and thus couldn't have been the murderer which means the real one is still out there _and_ the case isn't over _—_ couldn't have come at a better time. For either of them.

 

*

 

It isn't until far later in the day, funnily enough, that Carlton remembers and it occurs to him:

_"Because I know I sure wouldn't have if I'd wanted to."_

If I'd wanted to.

_If._

He holds onto that until Marlowe gets out of prison.


End file.
